New Born Bliss: An Extremely Mind-Screwy Tale of Hyper Music
by Gabriel Seraph
Summary: Luke gets bored and decides to start writing a YA story with a sarcastic everyman protagonist. Somehow, said protagonist comes to life and, with him, the untold monsters and villains still lurking in Luke's mind, waiting for their fates to be told. Weird and/or black humor, questionable story directions (flames please!), bloody hilarity, action violence, heavy language.
1. Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die!

AN: I've been doing a lot of unusual moves that don't really set me apart from the pack as much anymore. A Harry Potter/SPN fanfic, for instance. A High School AU. Here, I do what may be my most bizarre story yet, complete with an easily discreditable story maneuver that will make itself clear at the end of the very first chapter. It's risky, but I really hope it pays off for you. If not, I am glad to have disappointed you, and I hereby offer you a bear hug as a reward for reacting correctly.

Logic? I don't need no stinking logic! Sanity-free storytelling, that's the order of the day from me!

R&R and enjoy!

New Born Bliss: An Extremely Mind-Screwy Tale of Hyper Music

Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die (and Very Much Proud of the Fact, Thank You Very Much!)

Everyone has experienced something that makes them wonder if they are even in the right universe. Sometimes, you fear your life is fiction and you're just putting on a show for millions of aliens somewhere in the ether.

I've had more than my fair share of these experiences myself.

When I was eleven, I accidentally walked in on my 'rents having sex. Even though I knew full well what was going on, I found myself feeling the need to feign complete ignorance, and to that effect I told my sisters, "Whatever it was, it looked like Dad was winning." Seemed funny at the time, yes, but as I look back I really realize how stupid it was to say that.

A year later, I went to Disneyland and was somehow just barely tall enough to ride the Indiana Jones ride.

More recently, my mom has insisted that I'm too young to see _The Walking Dead_. Um, what universe is she inhabiting? I'm fourteen and perfectly capable of handling gory zombie violence and a foul-mouthed bunch of southern apocalypse survivors.

All these events have conspired to tell me one thing - I must be living in a sitcom. This may well be the only explanation for the odd subversions of seemingly normal rules that keep happening in my life. I guess it's okay, it's pretty much par for the course for me anyway. I've never really felt like I belonged in this universe anyway. I'm cursed with a degree of self-awareness that most people can't imagine, so I've long devoted myself to playing dumb and acting dumb, if only to taking my mind off things for a while.

Take Sunday night, for instance. I've just finished _Walking Dead_ with Dad and gone up to my room for the night. Too wired to sleep, I open my laptop and stare at the screen. There's the faintest hint of an idea in my brain, but it doesn't seem to want to escape. Only after I plug in my earbuds and put on the YouTube video with the complete audio of _Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die!_ does the idea bleed out my fingertips, metaphorically speaking of course. It starts a little something like this:

"_I am dead inside but that only makes me livelier. I have been variously accused of being a plagiarist and a lazy quasi-goth bum. The last one is not quite true. I am a hybrid of pretty much every 'alternative' subculture around - goth, emo, punk, indie boy, skater, everything. Stories crawl into my brains and escape through my fingers. There's always a major traffic jam, though, which is why I am hardly functional as a human being._"

And it just builds from there. Soon I've got a fully fleshed fictional character sitting in a Word Doc, and I've had enough of writing tonight. Cutting off the audio in the middle of "Nicotine," I save the Doc and close the laptop.

"That's it?" says a lazy, slightly slurred voice. "You're not even gonna explain the origins of my lazy quasi-goth bum-ness? That's a fucking drag. What kind of writer are you?"

I jump out of my bed in shock. "Who the hell are you?"

"You should know, dude," the voice's owner says. "You just created me, didn't you not?" He cleans his black rectangular glasses and jumps into the air a few feet, then just hangs there like he's on wires or something.

Reopening the laptop and the Word Doc, I read a bit before my mouth drops open. "Holy no way. You're-"

"That's right, buddy," he says. "Gabriel Seraph. Wow, did you really have to create me with no food inside me? Now I gotta go get some fuel. Where's the bloody kitchen in this place?" Gabriel descends to the floor, opens my bedroom door, and starts going downstairs, not really troubling to keep the noise down. God, his footfalls are ridiculously loud.

AN: Before you go on with this story - or, more importantly, before I go on with it - you should be aware that this is, in fact, entirely fictional. The only place these events are happening are inside my brain. And also, in case you're wondering, I am not now nor have I ever been drunk, stoned, or otherwise under the influence. This should therefore give you some idea about how I operate when I'm sober.


	2. First Interlogue

First Interlogue

Raziel Daemon glanced around himself as he came to once again. Everywhere there was a dark red nothingness, like the inside of a womb. But he knew this was no womb. The flickering video images of zombies pounding against a cyclone fence, swirling up and down the walls, saw to that. This could only be the brain of the Host, and the Host could only be an adolescent male. The things Raziel saw on the walls some days...sometimes he wished he could harness Tropic power the way his one-time brother in arms could, and use Brain Bleach to un-see those things at last.

_And what would I know about wombs anyway?_ he thought sourly. _Not like I've ever been in one._

Taking another look around, he realized he was still in the same chamber, but with one primary difference. The portal was closed. _Damn Gabriel_, he thought. _He must have knocked me unconscious and jumped the gun! _

Raziel suddenly realized it was growing cold, and the zombie images were shutting down. _Oh God, no_, he groaned internally. _Not Dreamworld again! I hate it there._ But there was nothing he could do to stop it. As the Host fell asleep, his brain switched gears and soon the unavoidably bright, searing Dreamworld images would burn into him once again.

The last thing Raziel was able to see before seeking shelter was a faint ghost image of a most unwelcome familiar face. A nondescript nerd with too much power for his own good. The boy known as Gabriel Seraph. _So he escaped after all. Well. I really have my work cut out for me, don't I?_


	3. Pretty Odd Indeed

Pretty. Odd. Indeed.

Somehow, I end up falling asleep within seconds of Gabriel leaving my room, and the last thing I remember is the faint sound of stuff clinking in the kitchen, like he's raiding the fridge or something. But in the morning, when I go downstairs to pop some waffles in the toaster, all the contents of the fridge and pantry are intact. Maybe it was some bizarro fever dream brought on by lack of sleep?

Yeah. Wishful thinking. It's not long before Gabriel returns to the kitchen. I'm actually not alerted to his presence until he suddenly barks, "Ugh! What the hell is that stench?" He sniffs the air loudly, like a dog, and turns his face towards Alex, who's just entered the room. He sniffs the top of her head and grimaces. "Oh. That. I completely forgot about the organic goat-milk shampoo."

I'm on the point of asking how Gabriel even knows about Alex's disgusting toiletry choice - yes, believe it or not, the jerkass has a point; that organic shampoo stinks to high hell. But then I stop as I realize Alex isn't even reacting to his brutally honest comments. Of course, Alex does kinda do that ignore-everybody-who-isn't-as-smart-as-you thing all the time, but to not even twitch in response to yet another insult about her green hair care...that just seems totally un-Alex. I therefore conclude that, for whatever reason, I'm the only one who can see or hear Gabriel.

As you can imagine, this doesn't really bode well for me. Of course, being schizo would really explain a lot. But still, it's troubling, to say the least.

"Hey, don't sweat it," says Gabriel, clapping me on the shoulder. "All the best creative geniuses have some kind of mental issues. I think it's the law, actually."

"How did you-"

"I'm in your head, buddy," says Gabriel. "I can hear your thoughts. And don't worry, your thoughts are exactly what they should be. All normal in there. Of course, I'm totally dead inside and cracked in the head myself, so what the fuck do I know?" He laughs and opens the fridge, grabs a bag of chocolate chips Mom uses for baking. Then he places the bag on the counter, waves his hand theatrically, and a second bag, identical to the first, appears next to the original. Gabriel returns the original bag to the fridge and starts eating out of the one he'd just made.

_So that's how he raided the fridge and left no evidence,_ I think.

I wait until after I've left the house to start talking to Gabriel. That way, I'm otherwise alone, and nobody can see me doing something weird, 'cause that's all anyone sees about me anyway and I'm a bit sick of it. "So where did you come from, exactly?" I ask.

"The inside of your head," Gabriel says. "You made me up in there. Don't remember anything from before last night, 'cause that's pretty much when I first existed."

"So how did you get out of my head?" I ask. "That's more important to know, don't you think?"

Gabriel chuckles. "You started writing the beginnings of a teen sci-fi/fantasy novel but left a lot of shit hanging. Like, what's my motivation? What am I fighting? What are my powers?"

"But you got powers already," I point out.

"Those are just the default powers that come to any just-created character," Gabriel says. "I need you to define what powers I'm really gonna have, 'cause that's the author's job. Until then, I could potentially have all the powers in the book. And I'm pretty sure I do, 'cause my head is splitting each time I try not to use one, and that happens pretty much five times a second right about now."

"You're not answering my question," I say. "How did you get out of my head?"

Gabriel rubbed his neck in that way that suggested he was grasping for a reason. "Um...well...we fictional characters reserve the right to emerge into the real world at any time, really. For emergencies only, officially, but nobody ever pays attention to that rule."

"I don't know what to say to that," I mutter. At this moment, I start thinking,_ What if Gabriel's telling the truth? Can I just create things instantly by thought?_ So I stare at a nearby bush and wonder if there could possibly be some kind of monster in there.

In response, a big cotton-candy-pink spider crawls out of the bush. It's got huge eyes and it's the size of a beagle, which makes it surprisingly cute despite its ugliness.

Gabriel giggles like a little girl. "Oh look at the wittle spider! So adorable! I just wanna squeeze it and - whoa there. Is this the monster you're trying to set on me?"

"Maybe," I say. "Why don't you go pet it and find out?"

"Am I really that expendable to you?" Gabriel asks.

"Don't forget, I'm your creator," I say. "If you get hurt or killed I'll just fix you up instantly."

"That is, if you can control your own Puberty Superpower," Gabriel grumbles.

"Puberty Superpower?"

Gabriel laughs. "Why else do you think you started doing this when you did? Physical maturity brings out the best in some of us. Or the worst, I guess. Okay, here goes nothing..." He reaches down and pets the spider, only for it to leap up and bite his wrist and skitter off, back into the bush.

"Oh, don't mind me," Gabriel slurs. "Guess I'll just lie here and crumble to dust..." He exhales a death rattle, and I run forward to see if I can bring him back. I place my hands on his spider bite and think of it being fixed. It actually works, but the act of healing causes me a splitting headache, like somebody is beating up the inside of my brain.

"I hope I don't have to put up with headaches every time," I groan as Gabriel opens his eyes and sits back up.

"Maybe you will, maybe you won't," he says. "Don't ask me, I've never done this before." He leverages himself into a standing position and adds, "Hey, dude, your nose is bleeding. Hold on, let me fix that." He grabs my nose and shoots a jet of fire from his hands into my nostril, causing me to jump back in pain. "Hey, don't worry. At least you can't get nosebleeds anymore. Now, if you'll excuse me, I got some exploring to do. Go on, go to school. Even though you probably don't need it."

And on that weird note Gabriel turns on his heel and ambles off down the street as if he hadn't just been killed by a spider bite and resurrected, leaving me with no choice but to stare after him for a couple of seconds before turning the other way and continuing to walk up to school. In the words of Panic! At The Disco, indeed things were really shaping up to be Pretty. Odd.


	4. Second Interlogue

Second Interlogue

Raziel could only watch helplessly as the Host created the giant spider, allowed it to bite Gabriel, and then the Host proceeded to heal him. "Fuck! Fucking shit! Fuck!" Raziel let out a repetitive litany of curses as he pounded the walls in the vain hope that the Host would stop healing his enemy.

Nothing happened save for a number of red flashes all over the wall at the points where Raziel's fists beat on them, signaling that the Host was suffering a severe headache. _Serves him right,_ Raziel groused in his head. _Maybe that'll teach him not to heal the wrong people. Now what about me, though?_

As if in answer to his unspoken plea, a small hole appeared on the wall in front of him. _A portal! _Raziel thought, recognizing it instantly. He placed his hand up to the portal, hoping that he would be able to pass it through - but, sadly, all his hand hit was solidness, like a glass wall over the portal itself.

The litany of curses resumed with Raziel's resurgent anger. "Fuck you, Gabriel!" Raziel yelled to nobody in particular. He knew, he just knew, that Gabriel had sealed him inside the Host's head. _Bastard even told it to open portals just to tease me,_ Raziel thought. _Well, that shouldn't be too much trouble. All I have to do is unseal this place. It'll just take hours, is all. No big deal._


End file.
